Cerulean St Cloud
by Qweb
Summary: Bored at a party, Tony Stark meets the mysterious woman known as Cerulean St. Cloud. By the time the night is over, Tony will need his armor, SHIELD and Captain America in order to defeat the bad guys. And Tony wasn't even the one in trouble. (NOT a Tony/OC romance, I promise.) Same "universe" as "A Very Good Team."
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is a real story with a whole plot and all. It is long enough that I plan to run it in three parts._

**Cerulean St. Cloud**

Tony Stark was at a party and he was bored. This was almost never a good thing, except for the time he conceived of the Jericho System — no, that didn't turn out to be a good thing either. Basically, Tony plus Bored equaled Trouble. With a capital T and that rhymes with B and that stands for BORED!

OK, he really knew he was bored when old show tunes came into his head unbidden. I mean, show tunes! Black Sabbath he could understand.

Why had he agreed to come to this party with Bob, one of the many Stark Industries VPs? Bob who had immediately hooked up with a new girlfriend and vanished, leaving Tony alone with a bunch of strangers and bored! Oh yeah, because he'd been bored back at the Tower, too, with Banner off saving the world from dysentery and Pepper called to an emergency board meeting and Thor away on Asgard knew what business. Romanoff and Barton had disappeared on a SHIELD mission, taking Cap, too, maybe. Though all Captain America's business was shield business, Tony thought, with a smirk for his own cleverness. (Oh sure, said his always sardonic side — the one that was even sarcastic to himself — like Steve's never heard that one before!)

Tony had almost been bored enough to go to the board meeting (bored meeting) with Pepper. Almost. And now at the boring party, he was rethinking that yet again. The shock on the directors' faces when he showed up might be worth listening to Tedious Ted from Legal.

Sipping his drink — at least the refreshments were top drawer — Tony admired the penthouse apartment — half a penthouse, really, one of two apartments taking up the top floor of the building. The main room was decorated in minimalist modern with no chairs, just a few bar stools and one couch providing seating. On the other hand, there was a coffee table and many small tables scattered around, handy for setting down a used glass or plate. There were fully stocked wet bars in two corners, one for mixed drinks and one for beer and wine. In the diagonally opposite corners were tables full of appetizers, one with hot dishes and one with cold delicacies. The arrangement was designed to keep people circulating, not clumping around one bar or table.

Despite the expert setting, people didn't seem to be having a lot of fun. Some were already sidling toward the exit. This seemed more like a business cocktail party, a roomful of strangers stuffing their faces and slipping away before the sales pitch could start.

The nicest things were the tall, slender, pale yellow glass vases, each containing one twisted orchid stalk. Pepper would admire the ikebana. OK, Tony was super bored if he was thinking about Japanese flower arrangements.

And then Tony's roving eye caught sight of a thing of rare beauty — the cutest tush. A sky blue silk dress pulled tight across the most delicious derriere Tony had seen in ages. When the woman moved , long white-blonde hair cut straight across swayed, just brushing the beautiful bottom, calling attention to perfection in a way that simply could not be accidental. The night was looking up, Tony thought, or rather down, he smirked.

A salacious grin on his face, Tony assumed his playboy persona and moved smoothly to the woman's side.

"Excuse me, miss, I couldn't help notice your stunning ass-ets," Tony said, with just a hint of emphasis on the "ass." Sure, that wasn't the way to catch a nice girl, but Pepper would kill him if he actually caught one. He was just hoping for an amusing session of flirtatious banter with a professional or semi-pro escort.

But when she turned, Tony suddenly wasn't bored any more, because the face beneath the white-blonde bangs belonged to the Black Widow. And how hadn't he recognized that pulchritudinous posterior? Damn, the master spy was good! She could even disguise her behind.

Focus, Stark! Tony thought sternly and the erratic playboy shattered into the calculating engineer.

Natasha must have seen something she approved of in his change of expression, because her assessing stare became a smile of delight.

"Why, you're Tony Stark! Mr. Stark, is that any way to talk to a woman you haven't been introduced to?" she chided playfully. There was a hint of the South in her voice, a steel magnolia, indeed.

Tony made a tiny half bow of greeting. "That's the way I talk to a woman I would like to meet," he countered. "Miss…?"

"St. Cloud," she purred, offering her hand. "Cerulean St. Cloud."

Tony almost choked. That was such a stripper name. But, being Natasha, it must have been chosen with its falsity in mind.

"No one is born with the name Cerulean St. Cloud." Tony leavened his scoffing with a conspiratorial smile.

"No one is born with any name at all," "Cerulean" replied coquettishly. "Don't you like it, Tony? I made it up myself. It's sooo much better than Edna Marchbach."

"'Cerulean' is a beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

She chuckled, batted her eyes at him, then looked past his shoulder. "Darling!" she said gladly, sounding suddenly more girlish and less worldly-wise. "Look who I found. It's Tony Stark. He likes my name."

Tony turned, face bland, expecting to see Hawkeye. He saw the dirty blond, spiky hair he expected, but it was more elevated than usual. He looked up into the face of Steve Rogers. Except, this wasn't the friendly grin of Steve or the all-business stone face of Captain America. This was a suspicious and — judging by the way he unobtrusively shouldered Tony aside — possessive male. He handed a martini glass to Cerulean, freeing a hand that snaked around her waist, before he turned to salute Tony with his highball glass.

"Mr. Stark," he said.

"Tony, this is my fiancé, Kevin Starr," Cerulean said. She flashed her sizable diamond ring at Stark.

"Mr. Starr."

"Kevin" reluctantly took his hand from around Cerulean's waist and offered it to Tony. "I should thank you," he said with an effort at civility. "You and your friends made my fortune."

"How's that?" Tony asked, with a better impersonation of politeness.

"I invented a new kind of crane — new gearing and a new method of balance. Like a traveling supercrane. It was in demand for clearing dead space whales." There was a new note of enthusiasm in his voice. Kevin was a man who knew his stuff.

"Sounds like something Stark Industries might be interested in distributing," Tony said idly.

Now Kevin was genuinely smiling. "Once we get all the patents squared away, I'll be sure to call your office. We just have a small plant now. We have more orders than we can fill."

Kevin was projecting his voice to carry over the crowd noise. Several people glanced his way, then looked away again. More people probably knew Kevin's business than he intended. Unintentional on "Kevin's" part, Tony understood; entirely intentional on Cap's part.

The engineer fitted the pieces together. The talk about patents meant this was probably an industrial espionage case. Cap was being set up as the target, but what was Natasha's role? Cerulean was certainly no innocent bystander.

"Excuse me, Tony. You have a smudge of lipstick." The woman rubbed the nonexistent smudge off his cheek, taking a moment to caress (as Cerulean would) and slip something in his ear (which was pure Natasha). Steve caught her hand and pulled her away, twining his fingers in hers.

Tony heard the middle of an exasperated conversation. "…uin everything."

"Relax, Jasper." That was Clint Barton's voice. The Hawk was watching from somewhere, somewhere high, no doubt. "It would be out of character for Tony to not flirt with Cerulean or for him to run away just because she has a big, strong man with her. He's a nuisance like that. And, yes, Tony, I know you can hear me now."

Tony was used to talking back to the voice in his ear. It took an effort of will to pretend he heard nothing.

"The crowd's beginning to thin out," Jasper Sitwell said. "They'll make their move soon." Whoever "they" were.

"If you want in, Stark, get your car from the valet, drive away, then double back and come to the Fairmont's west entrance," Clint instructed.

"Looks like this party's breaking up," Tony commented. "Guess I'll go find someplace livelier. Seriously, call me when you're ready to expand. If my CEO likes the looks of your project, we can probably do business."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark." Kevin shook hands willingly, but stayed between Tony and Cerulean.

Tony smiled his sharklike grin. "If I forget who you are — kinda depends on how much excitement I find later tonight — just remind me of Cerulean. I could never forget Cerulean St. Cloud."

Natasha simpered at him. Steve frowned. Tony flipped a two-fingered salute of farewell and left. As he was going, he heard "Kevin" say, "We should probably be leaving, too."

"Just one more drink, honey," Cerulean coaxed.

* * *

Tony retrieved his car and followed instructions. Barton's voice gave him directions when he arrived at the Fairmont. Making sure he was unobserved, Tony entered a suite that had a view of the penthouse apartment across the way.

A SHIELD strike team in full gear waited patiently in case of trouble. They had an alarming number of paramedics with them. Then again, they were backing up the Black Widow who could wreak carnage with a bottle cap and a martini olive. Agent Jasper Sitwell sat at a bank of communications gear. Monitors gave him a view of several rooms in the penthouse, including the party room, which was emptying fast. There were just a few lingering guests, including the two Avengers, and the hosts saying goodbye.

Tony wondered how Bob was involved with these men who were on SHIELD's radar in such a big and potentially lethal way.

"What's the play, Agent Sitwell? Industrial espionage?"

"Very good, Mr. Stark. Your hosts, Markham and Jinks, have been moving from town to town stealing industrial secrets by the fine, old-fashioned method of beating the information out of the rightful owners."

Tony did not like the direction this was headed.

"They have a bevy of lovely ladies, including — as of two towns ago — the intriguing Cerulean St. Cloud, who lure the secret holders into the clutches of Markham and Jinks and their motley crew. The criminals beat the poor man until he gives up his passcode or safe combination or whatever they need to retrieve the information — much of it classified and all of it dangerous in the wrong hands. It's our mission to return said information to the hands of the original owners."

Sitwell's speech might have sounded pompous, except for the deadly serious expression on his light brown face.

"If you know so much, why don't you just arrest them?" Tony asked, though he knew it was never that simple.

"Because they work for someone else," Sitwell said. "Romanoff believes the information is in their own safe, which she plans to access while they are busy with Captain Rogers. If she's right, we will shut down this crew and take out their boss before he knows anything has gone wrong."

"And if she's wrong?"

"Then we will follow 'Kevin's' information when it's passed to the boss and proceed from the top down."

Tony was afraid he knew the answer, but he asked the question anyway. "And why is Steve involved?"

Sitwell turned fully away from his monitors to look Tony directly in the eyes. "Because no one can take a punch like Captain America."

Tony felt as if he'd been punched. "That's wrong on so many levels."

"He volunteered. In fact, he suggested acting as a diversion."

Tony threw up his hands. "Of course he volunteered! He's Captain America! He volunteered to be a guinea pig in a project that would either kill him or send him to the front lines!"

"Tony, I've got his back," Clint's voice came through the earpiece Tony had forgotten. "If it looks too hairy, then his attackers are pincushions and we'll find another way to track down the boss. No offense, Sitwell."

"It's no more than I expected, Barton," Sitwell confessed. "Every man in Markham's crew is a known killer, though witnesses against them tend to recant or disappear. Three of their recent beating victims have died, one of a bad heart and two from excess stubbornness. One of those men was a widower who left three orphaned little girls all under the age of eight."

"Natasha takes that personally," Barton commented, then in a different tone of voice he reported, "They're making their move." Sitwell spun back to his display. He put the party room up on the main screen.

"Romanoff planted cameras and microphones in every room," he told Tony.

"She also tweaked the blinds," Clint said with amusement strong in his voice. "They can't see anything but blank roofs. They don't realize I can see in."

The bad guys began to subtly surround Steve. Two were the hosts Markham and Jinks. Bob had pointed them out to Tony but hadn't gotten around to introducing them. Two others were dressed as party guests in well-cut suits that concealed hefty muscles. The other three had been a bartender and two waiters.

"I'm curious, Mr. Stark. How did you end up at this dangerous party?" Sitwell asked, as they watched Markham chat with Steve.

"I'm wondering the same thing, Agent Sitwell." He explained that Stark Industries' vice president of research and development had invited him to go and immediately took off with a woman, abandoning Tony at the party.

"I had told him no, but I decided I needed to get out of the lab and all my friends said they were busy."

Off on his roof, Clint snorted.

"So it was a last minute decision? That may have been your salvation, Mr. Stark," Sitwell said solemnly. "You would be the grand prize for any idea thief."

"And since you are committed to Pepper, they tried a backhanded approach through 'Bob'," Clint said. "I saw that girl he left with. She's one of theirs."

"Just as well they were committed to Captain Rogers tonight," Sitwell said.

"I'm not as fond of punches as Cap is," Tony agreed. "Especially when they're thrown at me."

"Captain America saves Iron Man again," Hawkeye snarked.

* * *

Two muscle men grabbed Steve from either side. Two more confronted him while another lurked behind, dancing a little in excitement. The two bosses, Markham and Jinks, hustled Natasha out of the room.

"Let her go!" Steve seemed to struggle to get away. Tony knew Captain America wouldn't have had any trouble escaping his captors, but that wasn't the play. "Cerulean!" Steve called desperately.

While Steve continued to squirm in the main room, the camera in the hallway showed the men release Natasha as soon as they were out of sight.

Markham patted her blue-clad behind in patronizing fashion. Tony winced, because he didn't expect the man to keep his hand. But undercover Natasha merely smirked.

"Good job, doll. You wait here in case we need the damsel in distress routine."

"You got it, boss," Natasha answered, in an entirely different persona from the two she'd shown inside the party. "I just need to freshen up, then I'll be right back."

Markham nodded permission for her to leave. Natasha started down the hall. When the men went inside, she paused by an unmarked door and began to pick the lock. She was inside before her bosses even finished telling "Kevin" what they wanted.

"No! I won't give in to bullies," Steve said.

And that's the real Steve, Tony murmured, forgetting that Clint and Sitwell could hear him. Clint nodded agreement, but didn't speak. All his attention was fixed on the beating that was beginning.

Tony's eyes flicked back and forth from the screen showing Steve taking a punch to the one showing Natasha breaking into the safe with an electronic code breaker.

"Where the hell was she hiding that?" he asked.

"Don't ask," Clint advised.

Intriguing as Natasha's actions were, Tony couldn't keep his gaze away from Cap. Two men pounded on Steve from the front while a third landed an occasional kidney punch from behind.

Kevin swore in curses that Tony would have sworn Captain America didn't know.

* * *

"Almost there," Natasha reported. "Hang on, Steve."

Glaring at his attackers, Steve spat a mouthful of blood in the nearest man's face.

Sitwell reported that to Natasha who nodded. Jasper muted his microphone to explain to Tony, "Spitting is a signal he's OK. Right now, Rogers and Romanoff can be heard by all of us, but they communicate only with each other. Barton and I have to deliberately flip a switch to talk to them."

Tony nodded understanding. You don't want to distract them," Tony said.

The man with bloody spit in his eyes, wiped his face and then wound up for a roundhouse punch straight to Steve's jaw.

A rattling noise came from one speaker. Sitwell cursed.

"What?" Tony demanded.

"That's the sound of an earpiece falling on the floor," Jasper answered.

There was a crunch, then one speaker began to hiss. Sitwell shut it off.

"And that's the sound of someone stepping on an earpiece," Clint said. "Nat, Cap's lost his earpiece."

Natasha swore in some language Tony didn't know, as she opened the safe; then swore more fervently when she reached inside.

"What?" Clint and Sitwell demanded simultaneously.

"It's a tablet," she said, and pulled the computer into view of the hidden camera. "I need more time." She plugged the code breaker into the tablet.

None of the men said it, but they worried that Steve might not have a lot of time.

**To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Were you waiting for some action?_

**Cerulean St. Cloud, Part 2**

"Doesn't look like they stepped on the earpiece on purpose," Clint reported, as Steve's beating continued.

Tony would hope not. He had designed it to look like a bit of earwax with a hair caught in it. Not very appetizing to study. It lay flat, not filling the ear like more obvious earpieces. Microscopic fibers let it cling to the inside of the ear like Velcro, but it couldn't cling too tight or you'd lose skin taking it out.

Speaking of lost skin, Tony winced as a punch opened a cut in Steve's cheek.

The attackers had developed a routine. First a flurry of blows from the henchmen, then a pause while Markham or Jinks would try to reason with their prisoner. Cap took the opportunity to bluster, or question, or seem to waver, anything that prolonged the assault to give Natasha more time.

Tony knew that Sitwell probably knew the names, rap sheets and favorite ice cream flavors of the five henchmen, but the billionaire didn't bother to ask. He classified the men in his own idiosyncratic fashion. The two well-dressed goons were the ones holding onto Steve's arms. One was Hispanic and one looked Italian, but their dark hair and olive skin made them practically twins. Even their clothing was similar. Only their neckties were different, so Tony thought of them as Green Tie and Blue Tie.

The man behind Steve, who was dressed as a waiter, did more dancing than hitting but he did a disproportionate amount of damage. His blows were savage and landed when Steve was distracted by the others, so Cap couldn't brace himself. Tony marked him as Kidney Buster.

The other "waiter" was the one who knocked the earpiece flying. An ugly man with his head shaved bald, he seemed to hate Steve's handsome face and focused on pounding it. He was Facelifter.

The guy dressed as a bartender concentrated on pounding Steve's body. After a few hits to the chest, which seemed to hurt his hand, he pulled out a pair of brass knuckles and moved his attention to the softer belly area. Tony dubbed him Knuckles and hated him.

Watching the men assault his friend, Tony's fists clenched and he realized he was unconsciously moving his fingers in the pattern to fire his repulsors. It was second nature, now. If he saw someone hit an Avenger, he'd fly down and blast them.

Though his eyes were on the monitor, Sitwell noticed the twitching. He gestured at a bank of readouts, one of which looked remarkably like an EKG.

"I know it looks bad, but he's not in any danger. We have sensors all over that room. The captain's heart rate is still steady."

Tony ran his hand down his face. He remembered that Clint and Natasha trusted Sitwell. They said Sitwell had been a good friend of Coulson and Stark still obscurely felt he owed Coulson a debt, so he didn't unleash his sarcasm flamethrower on the mission handler.

"Agent Sitwell, you've been chasing down Chitauri technology and bringing in Loki's scattered minions. You haven't had much opportunity to work with the Avengers, have you?"

Sitwell agreed. A worry line appeared between his eyes. Phil had always told him when Stark got reasonable, danger was imminent.

"You wouldn't know, for instance, that Rogers has been taking yoga lessons from Banner. Amusing to watch. You wouldn't think a big guy would be so flexible, but — well — super soldier and all. Even his cartilage is enhanced, I suppose."

Sitwell read between the rambling lines. "So he might be able to keep his heartbeat under control, even if he's being seriously hurt."

Watching the monitors, they saw Steve spit on the floor at Jinks' feet. Steve knew he'd lost his earpiece. The gesture of defiance was Steve's attempt to reassure the watchers that he was still good to go. But the blood in the saliva was anything but reassuring. Maybe it was just from a split lip or a bloody nose (Steve visibly had both), but it could have come from an internal hemorrhage as well.

Tony continued with a semblance of calm, "Also, Cap can take a punch better than most. His muscles are dense and he heals rapidly — but he feels everything! He's a stoic by nature, but he feels pain like the rest of us, maybe worse because drugs don't do anything for him."

Sitwell's eyes grew narrow in the expression Tony had come to know as "Bad intel detected. SHIELD agent recalculating."

Tony pulled up his sleeve and showed his bracelet. "Let me call the suit. Just in case."

Sitwell hesitated. "We didn't want to make this an Avengers case." No splashy superheroes, just a quiet spy game.

"They already know Stark was there," Clint's voice said coolly from his vantage point. "If he noticed something and brought in Iron Man, that wouldn't be so strange. He's a meddler, everyone knows that."

"Pernicious meddler," Tony corrected cheerfully.

Sitwell nodded agreement (to calling the suit, though he agreed with the meddler designation, too). "Try not to attract too much attention, Mr. Stark."

Tony spoke to his wrist. "J, send the Mark VIII. Stealth over speed."

"Yes sir," said a tiny, tinny British voice from the wristband.

"Nice to have backup," Clint commented. "But it might not be needed. Cap knows how to ride a blow. These guys aren't doing as much damage as they think they are."

Sitwell and Stark trusted Hawkeye's observations and the next incident in the beatdown room seemed to back him up.

Markham called a pause, telling "Kevin" to stop being stupid. "How much more do you want to take, kid?"

Steve brought up his head and lifted his jaw, which, not incidentally, put his eyes on line with SHIELD's hidden camera. He seemed to look Tony squarely in the eye when he answered, his split lip showing a twitch of humor as if he remembered a private joke, "I can do this all day."

As the henchmen began swinging again, Jinks pulled Markham aside. Out of "Kevin's" earshot (but not out of Cap's range or the SHIELD microphone's), Jinks suggested bringing in Cerulean to use her as leverage.

* * *

"They're coming, Romanoff," Sitwell warned.

"Let them come. I've got it." Her voice was triumphant.

"Everything?" Sitwell asked hopefully.

"Everything," she confirmed. "Sending the data now."

"No need to let these fish swim away," Clint chortled.

"No need to be gentle taking them down," Tony smirked, cracking his knuckles.

"But Cap and I get first dibs," Black Widow warned.

"Ladies first," Sitwell said.

"No, captains first," she answered. "He's earned it. More than earned it."

Tony remembered that Natasha was a specialist in this sort of interrogation. Let the bad guys capture her, beat her, maybe torture her, until she had learned everything she needed to know just from the questions they asked and the boasting they did. She understood exactly what Cap was going through, even though she couldn't see it.

-AV-

Natasha left the office through a door to the outside hall, then let herself back in the main door of the penthouse suite, munching on a bag of M&Ms from the vending machine near the elevator.

"Where have you been?" Jinks growled.

"I was hungry," "Cerulean" answered with a shrug. "You need me?"

"Yeah, your boyfriend is stubborn and we're getting bored. You know what to do."

"Sure, cry and cower and beg Kevin to tell you what you want to know."

"We may have to push you around some," Jinks warned her.

She shrugged. "Just stay away from the face or it'll cost extra."

Jinks nodded. "Fair enough." But Natasha didn't trust the sadistic gleam in his eyes.

* * *

While Natasha mussed her hair and ripped her beautiful cerulean dress down at the neck and up clear to her hip, the SHIELD strike team picked up their weapons and checked their gear.

"Talon's ready," Hawkeye reported from his rooftop.

Tony smiled because he and Clint had designed the window-buster together. The talon had four needlepointed, diamond-tipped claws and as heavy a shaft as was aerodynamically feasible. The points could penetrate even bulletproof glass and had enough weight behind them to shatter a window and rip away any concealing curtains.

* * *

A metallic rap came at the door of SHIELD's temporary command post. The strike team agents reached for their weapons, but Tony waved them back.

"Take it easy, boys and girls. It's for me." His wristband was flickering green as he opened the door.

The Iron Man suit stood there, eye slits glowing in its shadowed face. Tony stepped backwards to make space and turned away from the suit. The suit stepped into the room, closed the door behind it and opened like a cannibalistic clam to engulf Tony body part by body part.

"Like that's not creepy at all," one of the agents muttered.

Tony smirked. "Don't wait for me, children. I'll be right behind you."

"Won't be anything left when we get there anyway," another agent grumbled, as the strike team filed out double-time.

"Not with Widow on the loose," a woman agreed.

* * *

Jinks slapped Natasha hard and threw her at Steve's attackers. Knuckles yanked her long blonde hair and wrenched back her head; then he punched her in the face with his brass knuckles and threw her at Steve's feet. When the woman looked up to see Steve's handsome face battered and bleeding, Cerulean shrieked, Natasha winced in sympathy and Black Widow clenched her teeth in icy fury.

Steve Rogers looked down at his friend's face, cheek cut and swelling from the wicked blow. Steve, Kevin and Cap were all incensed.

"Kevin, baby, don't let them hurt me. Please, I just want to go home," Cerulean sobbed.

"Go home" were the key words.

Natasha saw a gleam in Steve's swollen eyes, then the battered face drooped in surrender. "Don't hurt her," Steve said hoarsely. "I'll do whatever you want."

"Damn! We should have done this sooner," Jinks said.

"But the beatdown is your favorite part," Markham pointed out.

Jinks' answering smile turned to a puzzled frown when Natasha said in her Black Widow voice, "Your favorite part? Then you're going to love this!"

* * *

A former circus performer, Clint knew a cue when he heard one. He loosed the Talon.

The bad guys flinched when the window smashed and the stylish wooden blinds tore loose to fall in a clattering tangle.

In that moment of distraction, Steve Rogers shrugged.

The simple shift of his serum-enhanced muscles pulled the guys holding him off balance. Blue Tie stumbled and lost his grip on Steve's right arm. Ignoring Green Tie, still hanging on his left arm, Steve began pounding the goon in front of him, the one who'd been so fond of gut punches, the one who'd hit Natasha. Steve's big fist moved like a piston — wham, wham, wham! Head, gut and groin in rapid succession. As Knuckles folded, his jaw came into perfect alignment for a massive uppercut that hit with the force of a cannonball. There was a crunch, as of multiple bones breaking, and then the man dropped to the floor.

Blue Tie stumbled right into Natasha's path. It was his incredible good fortune that she was focused on the henchman Tony called Facelifter, the man who'd turned Captain America's wholesome visage into hamburger meat. She shoved Blue Tie aside as she reached for two of the ikebana vases. Wielding the heavy glass vases like cudgels, she slammed one into Facelifter's face and broke the other over the crown of his bald head. Blood poured from a dozen cuts. Facelifter covered his bleeding face with his hands and cried like a frightened child. Natasha sneered and landed a kick behind his ear that dropped him unconscious to the ground just an instant behind Knuckles unmoving body.

Green Tie tugged at Steve's arm, trying to turn him to hit him, but Steve ignored him momentarily, looking for Markham and Jinks.

Natasha spotted Jinks first, bounding after him like a cheetah.

Behind Steve, the Kidney Buster had recovered from his shock and pulled a pistol from his waistband. An arrow pierced his gun hand, pinning it to the wall. With a scream of agony, he let the gun fall and grabbed for the arrow. A second shaft pinned the second hand beside the first. He writhed and wailed for a full second, until a blunt tipped arrow knocked him out and shut him up.

The artistically ripped dress had freed Natasha's nimble legs. She leaped onto the leather couch, using the arm as a springboard to vault over Jinks' head with a laid out, half turn that landed her on her feet, facing the racketeer.

"I warned you, hitting me in the face would cost extra," she growled. "Nick Burke's three orphaned little girls. That's only the first page of your debt ledger."

"The only debts that matter are the ones I pay in blood," Jinks snarled back.

A knife flashed in his hand and he lunged at Natasha. She laughed and sprang clear, chopping the blade out of his hand as he passed, then she leapfrogged to his shoulders almost playfully. She squeezed her knees together, pressing tight beneath his chin. Jinks clawed at her bare leg, tearing the shreds of her skirt off, but Natasha ignored it.

"Time to pay up," she hissed.

She threw herself backwards without releasing the pressure of her knees. The Black Widow heard a satisfying crack, then let go, doing a handspring to her feet as Jinks' body dropped.

Steve spotted Markham running for the exit, just as Green Tie grabbed Steve's collar, trying in vain to knock the super soldier down. With a huff of annoyance, Steve seized the knot of the green tie, clamped his hand around the henchman's leather belt and hoisted the man over his head. Green Tie clutched frantically at Steve, but only managed to tear his shirt.

Steve eyed Markham, but noticed a greater threat when Blue Tie pressed his luck too far and grabbed an assault rifle from behind the bar. Putting his back, arms and mighty legs into the effort, Steve threw the flailing green-tied goon clear across the room into his blue-tied counterpart. The men collided and slammed into the wall behind the bar, shelves of liquor bottles crashing and smashing down upon them. The air was filled with the sharp scent of alcohol.

Escape in his grasp, Markham reached for the door. It blew straight backwards into him, blasted off its hinges by a repulsor blast. Markham landed flat on his back, moaning beneath the door. Iron Man walked in, crossing the door and the man beneath it with deliberately heavy tread.

Standing on his tilted platform, Iron Man scanned the room. Only his two Avengers teammates were still standing, two well-built chests heaving in a most attractive fashion (no matter what your preference). Steve's dress shirt had been half torn off by Green Tie's frantic grip. Natasha's cocktail dress looked more like a low-cut one-piece swimsuit. Blood and glass was scattered everywhere and the place reeked of expensive booze.

Tony Stark flipped up his visor. "You started the party without me," he complained.

* * *

Steve gave a laugh that turned into a groan. He clutched his abused abdomen and folded toward the floor, but Iron Man was there in a flash, catching him before he could face plant in the bloody glass.

"Don't make me laugh," Steve pleaded breathlessly. "It hurts when I laugh."

"I knew that was an old joke, but that old? Really?" Tony said.

Steve laughed again, and groaned again, leaning on Iron Man's shoulder. Tony hoisted his friend into his arms, which wasn't easy, armor or no armor, when Steve was curled into a tight ball of pain.

"At least calling the suit wasn't a total waste," Tony commented.

**To Be Continued**

_A/N: And there's the whump. One more chapter to come._


	3. Chapter 3

**Cerulean St. Cloud Part 3**

_Steve gave a laugh that turned into a groan. He clutched his abused abdomen and folded toward the floor, but Iron Man was there in a flash, catching him before he could face plant in the bloody glass._

"_Don't make me laugh," Steve pleaded breathlessly. "It hurts when I laugh."_

"_I knew that was an old joke, but that old? Really?" Tony said. _

_Steve laughed again, and groaned again, leaning on Iron Man's shoulder. Tony hoisted his friend into his arms, which wasn't easy, armor or no armor, when Steve was curled into a tight ball of pain. _

"_At least calling the suit wasn't a total waste," Tony commented._

* * *

He knew he should lay the injured man on something flat, but damned if he was going to put Captain America on the filthy, glass-covered floor. Natasha swept the coffee table clear and Iron Man carefully set his friend down.

"Easy, big guy," Tony said.

Steve curled on his side, panting in agony. Natasha knelt beside him and put her hand on his neck. She rubbed in a soothing, circular motion. "Breathe slowly," she instructed. "In … out, like …"

"No names!" Sitwell's voice was sharp in everyone's ear. "We still have some live ones," he reminded everyone.

"Like our friend taught you," Natasha finished, making a face. As if she'd forget to keep Avengers' business separate from SHIELD's! "Slow it down, Kevin."

Eyes still squeezed shut, Steve nodded. He panted rapidly for a moment, like a woman in labor, then consciously slowed his breaths. He focused on Natasha's hand, timing each breath to the back and forth sweeping of her fingers.

"Wait? Is that why you're taking yoga? In order to hide how much pain you're in?" Tony's protest distracted Cap and reminded him of his pain.

Steve wanted to keep his eyes scrunched up against the pain, but he couldn't help but open one to look at Iron Man in incredulity.

"It's called pain management, Stark," Natasha said furiously. (Tony's name was fair game. He'd told the world who Iron Man was.) "Don't distract him."

Then Tony got it and was ashamed. Drugs didn't help the super soldier very much or for very long. He was learning breathing and imagery techniques to control his pain.

The SHIELD strike team, including medics, ran in, saving Tony from his discomfiture.

"Where you been? Canada? I took the long way around and still got here first." Tony took his embarrassment out on them. It was true. To cut off anyone trying to escape, he'd zoomed around the building, crashed through Markham's apartment on the opposite side of the top floor and then made his grand entrance through the front door of Jinks' penthouse.

"Well, it's easy when you can fly," Clint's voice said in his ear — and right behind him!

Iron Man jumped and spun to find Hawkeye smirking at him. (And when Iron Man jumps, he ends up hovering six inches off the floor.) Tony looked at the archer, then at the broken window.

"Did you swing over here? Seriously?"

"Of course not," Clint scoffed. "It was a zip line."

Of course it was.

"Silly me," Tony replied. He looked at the medics and gestured at Cap. "You people want to help … here?" He was proud he remembered not to use names.

Agents were checking the fallen criminals and collecting the live ones. Two medics unpinned the archer's target and began to work on him. Two others went to Cap. Tony recognized one as Smithberg, the medic from the cave-in. The other was a woman with short, sandy blonde hair.

"This one's gone. Bled out," a medic reported from the arrow victim.

"I'm not going to cry about it," Clint said. "He was going to shoot 'Kevin' in the back."

The medic shrugged agreement. He and his partner went out with the other agents to treat the wounds of the live criminals who had been hauled across the hall to Markham's apartment. Markham protested in a dazed way, but no one paid any attention. Smithberg and the woman began to examine Steve.

"We're all clear," Sitwell reported. He sauntered in, a satisfied grin on his face. "Prisoners sequestered. No listening devices except our own. No reports to the police from the neighbors."

"Our prisoners did their own sound proofing," Natasha pointed out. A gentle finger touched a darkening bruise on Steve's face by way of explanation. "What about the information?"

"Already in Fury's hands. He's assembling another strike team as we speak. How's our patient?"

"Let you know when we have a chance to examine him," the woman said tartly. She had been looking over his head wounds, which were simple cuts and bruises, but Steve was still on his side with his knees tight to his chest, so she couldn't examine his abdomen.

"New partner?" Tony asked Smithberg, who was unpacking equipment.

He nodded. "Since we knew Cap would take some abuse, we picked Amber for the team. Cap seems to be comfortable with women docs. Not sure why." Apart from being from the 1940s, when male doctors would have been more the norm, Steve was known to be shy.

Smithy had spoken quietly to keep his patient from hearing, but, like so many, he'd underestimated the super soldier's enhanced hearing.

"Comes from my mother nursing me when I was a kid, I guess," Steve answered.

Smithy looked surprised. Tony tapped his ear and mouthed "super soldier."

"I heard that, Stark," Cap said with his eyes still closed.

"I didn't say anything!"

"Sometimes you think too loud, genius. I can hear the gears turning."

"Gears are so 20th century, 18th century, even. Microprocessors are the way of the future — your future, my present," Tony answered.

"Microprocessors are quiet," Steve countered. "You're not."

"Point! Tony agreed cheerfully.

"Shut it, Stark," Amber said, seeing her patient shudder with pain.

"I hope you don't mind me comparing you to my mother," Steve apologized.

"Of course not," she answered with a smile. "But I will be offended if you don't lie flat so I can check your chest and stomach."

"Not sure I can," Steve panted. "Those brass knuckles hurt and I felt something tear when I threw that goon."

Amber patted him and began to prepare a pair of IVs. She explained that one was the mix of glucose and nutrients they called Cap's Cocktail. It was fuel for his enhanced healing. The other was morphine.

"Enough to knock most people out. With you, I think it will just take the edge off so we can examine you. OK?"

Steve nodded.

* * *

Agents began removing the three dead men. When they picked up the one Cap had hit, his head bobbed, as if it was attached by a wet noodle. It made Tony sick to think how many broken bones must be in the neck.

Steve's eyes were open to watch the body go. There was no regret in his gaze.

"Geez, Cap, I've never seen you that mad," Tony said honestly.

"He shouldn't have hit Cerulean with the knuckle dusters."

Smithberg was probing Natasha's cut cheek to see if the bone was broken. It wasn't, because she knew how to ride a blow, too. "I can take care of myself," she told Cap.

"It wasn't you — Natasha. It was Cerulean," Steve tried to explain.

"Maybe you'd better check his head again," Clint told Amber seriously. "Nat was Cerulean."

"But they didn't know that." Steve was frustrated that he wasn't explaining himself well. "Cerulean worked for them. She was doing what they wanted. Jinks slapped her with an open palm — OK, that's window dressing, but that guy didn't need to hit her with the brass knuckles. He did it because he enjoyed it. It was … disloyal."

He quirked an eye at the doubtful faces of his friends and medics.

"No? Maybe it only makes sense if you're on morphine," Cap sighed.

Natasha smiled with a warmth that she shared with few. "It makes sense if you're a good, honest, sincere man."

"Then us spy types will never understand," Clint pointed out.

Speaking of warmth, Cap felt it seeping through his veins, easing the sharp bite in his belly. He cautiously started to stretch his legs out. Smithy helped him roll on his back.

His advanced healing meant that his bruises had already developed to their full glory. The left side of his face was black and blue. Visible through his torn shirt, his chest was marked by dark fist imprints and what they could see of his abdomen was near black.

Tony winced and hissed in sympathy.

Smithy held up a blanket to give Cap some privacy while Amber made her examination.

"If it makes you feel better, Tony, I know they never landed a punch to his groin. He was too quick to twist aside." Hawkeye had watched the whole beating. "His hips are probably bruised, though."

When Amber was finished, Smithy put the blanket over their patient. Cap blinked at them, eased a little by the morphine, but not exactly sleepy.

"What's the verdict?" he asked. The Avengers and Sitwell waited for an answer, too.

Amber chewed her lip. "We'd better wait for Dr. Kiel's decision, but I think you'll need surgery. Nothing major," she hastened to add.

"You do know you're talking about Captain America, right?" Tony said doubtfully.

"Mr. Stark, our field medics are doctors, fully trained in diagnostics and field surgery," Sitwell said.

"Only if we can't get our patients to a surgeon in a sterile operating theater," Smithberg countered. "But he's right, Amber knows what she's talking about."

"But I've never seen Captain Rogers as a patient," Amber parried. "We need proper tests."

"But he heals like crazy," Tony protested.

"I think that's part of the problem this time. Something tore in his abdomen, causing bleeding."

"Causing all that bruising," Smithy added.

"Now the space is full of blood and even if the wound itself closes, the body can't get rid of the blood easily," Amber explained.

Steve understood. "You need to drain it," he said.

"Then why are we standing here?" Tony demanded.

"Just waiting for the stretcher, Stark," Smithberg said. He pointed at the door where two medics wheeled in the gurney.

"Meet you at SHIELD Medical, Stark," Natasha said.

"Meet you?"

"Well, you need to tell Pepper that Steve got hurt," Clint said with a smirk.

They all knew Pepper thought of the super soldier as an oversized little brother.

"Right!" Tony lifted off gently, to not stir up the air, and drifted purposefully toward the shattered window. As he zoomed out, he remembered that he'd had a car. Well, that's what chauffeurs were for. "Jarvis, get me Happy," he told the computer interface. "And then Pepper."

* * *

Doing surgery on Captain America was traumatic — for the surgeon and the patient's friends. Steve had calmly suggested doing it the way they did in his grandfather's day, as fast as possible with no anesthetic. (And why did it seem extra weird that Steve's grandfather was alive during the Civil War, though only a child?)

But Dr. Rebecca Kiel couldn't bring herself to deliberately cause such pain. Yet knocking Steve out meant they had to flood his veins with a near toxic amount of anesthesia. They chose the safest medication available, but the sheer volume was frightening.

The surgery itself was simple. Kiel cleaned the blood from the abdominal cavity and sutured the incision, watching tissue heal almost as soon as she stitched it together. The flow of anesthesia was stopped, but Steve did not wake, not even when he was moved to a recovery room, not even when his friends started a low-voiced argument with his surgeon.

"All his vitals are normal," Kiel reassured them and herself.

Steve looked peaceful but terrible at the same time. The bruising on his face had moved into the sickening gray-green-yellow phase. It looked like he was wearing makeup to play Frankenstein's Monster, Tony thought, what with the funny color and the fading purple scars that had been deep cuts just the day before.

"Shouldn't you wake him?" Clint asked. He'd been in surgery enough, God help him, to know that was procedure.

But Cap was a special case, Kiel reminded them. Waking him was waking him to pain that the medical staff couldn't relieve. The longer he stayed in a normal healing sleep, the better.

"Sleep is the best thing for him," she said.

"It would help if people didn't hold conversations in his hospital room," Steve pointed out, without opening his eyes. He shifted position, winced, settled again and finally blinked his eyes open. He regarded his visitors — Dr. Kiel, Sitwell, Tony (with Pepper this time), Clint and Natasha, who was smiling despite her bruised cheek and scabbed lip.

"There's my namesake, those cerulean eyes," she teased. Steve and Clint smiled at some shared joke. Tony, naturally, wanted in.

"You got the name Cerulean from Steve's blue eyes?"

Clint sighed and pulled Tony aside to let the doctor examine her patient. "It's nothing. It's a game Nat and I play on boring stakeouts. We try to think of the most obscure words for things. We were describing the Avengers and Nat said that Steve's eyes were 'cerulean.'"

Sky blue was a good description of Cap's eyes, Tony had to admit.

"Clint said it sounded like a stripper's name — which shows where his mind usually is," Natasha said, coming over to poke her partner in the ribs. "He put it together with the street we were on — St. Cloud. When I needed a name for a working girl, I remembered Cerulean St. Cloud."

Tony glanced down at Natasha's behind, a lovely derriere, it's true, but minus the shaped foundation garment that made Cerulean's backside so memorable. (And that had protected Natasha's putative modesty after she tore off her skirt.)

"I miss Cerulean," Tony said plaintively.

Natasha saw the direction of his gaze and punched him. He flinched, but laughed. "So, did you describe me in this game?"

Clint considered. "Last time, my word was 'elephantine,' but Nat trumped me with Brobdingnagian."

"My genius or my bank account?" Tony quipped.

Natasha rapped his temple with her knuckles. "Your ego, Stark."

Satisfied with her patient's progress, Dr. Kiel left and Steve's friends gathered around his bed. Sitwell apologized for the plan that had resulted in Steve's injuries.

"I didn't fully understand your limitations, captain. I'm sorry you were hurt."

"It's nothing I can't recover from," Steve pointed out. "And we did catch the bad guys, didn't we?"

"We did." Sitwell smiled. "The boss is being interrogated by Nick Fury himself. Most of his victims will receive compensation for their stolen inventions."

"But nothing brings back the dead," Natasha said darkly.

"True, but three little girls will not have to worry where the next meal is coming from," Sitwell said.

Natasha nodded shortly.

"So, debriefing tomorrow at 14:00," Sitwell told Clint and Natasha. They nodded and Steve said, "I'll be there."

Disapproving stares were thrown at him from all parts of the room. Captain America was undaunted. He'd seen worse.

"Dr. Kiel just said I'd be out of here by noon tomorrow," he said mildly.

"Then I'll be there, too, to make sure you don't overdo," Tony said insistently. He sounded so much like protective Pepper that she slugged him for making fun of her. The funny thing was, he hadn't meant to. It was just that the authoritarian voice in his head sounded a lot like Pepper. (When it didn't sound like Cap.)

* * *

The next day, Steve Rogers walked gingerly but under his own steam into Sitwell's office for the debriefing. Everyone offered opinions; even Stark had useful input. Sitwell finished his notes and nodded. He complimented Romanoff on a job well done and thanked Stark for his observations. "You were unexpectedly helpful," he said, deadpan.

"I always try to be unexpected," Tony replied, unfazed.

"And Captain Rogers, I was pleasantly surprised by your acting abilities," Sitwell said. "It's not what I expected from a soldier."

"Spending months on stage has to teach you something, right Cap?" Clint said.

Steve just smiled modestly.

"You did the jealousy really well," Natasha said.

"I liked the way you did keep away with Cerulean, keeping her out of Tony's evil clutches," Clint chuckled.

"Was that difficult, since Stark is a friend of yours?" Sitwell asked idly.

Steve fidgeted — just a twitch, but all the agents saw it. And Tony noticed their sudden focus on Cap.

"Was it a problem?" Sitwell asked, no longer idly.

"No … no, it was easier because it was Tony. Um, they called it method acting back in the '30s." Steve looked positively shifty, not a good look for Captain America.

"They still do. But that means you drew on personal experience," Clint said.

"I thought we were friends?" Tony exclaimed, actually hurt.

Steve rolled his eyes nervously at Natasha on the opposite side of the room, but then manned up and confessed. "Tony is always trying to 'improve' my shield. I have to protect it from his … enthusiasm."

Clint and Tony were laughing hysterically. "So you pretended Nat was your shield?"

Steve gave Natasha his best repentant puppy dog expression. She gave him the cold assassin glare, stood and stalked toward him like cougar.

Clint and Tony shut up instantly. Wide eyed, they edged their chairs away from Cap, who closed his eyes and waited for his doom. Natasha got right in his face. When she touched his discolored cheek, he flinched and opened his eyes to see her staring at him, nose to nose. And then she kissed his nose.

"Comparing me to your iconic shield? Flatterer!" she said and she laughed at the relief on Steve's face.

Clint mused, "Black Widow, Cerulean St. Cloud. Black and blue — it suits you Nat." Then he ran, with Natasha in hot pursuit.

Sitwell debated imposing order but decided, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." The Avengers' crazy chemistry worked and that was all he asked for. He thanked Tony and Steve for their work and dismissed them.

"So, you coming back to the Tower?" Tony asked.

"I'd rather go to my place," Steve said. His nice, quiet place in Brooklyn.

Tony made a face. "That sounds boring," he said.

"But boring sounds good right now," Cap countered.

"Now that you mention it, it kind of does. Mind if I join you?"

As if anything was boring with Tony Stark around, Steve thought with a smile.

"OK, but keep your hands off my shield," he warned.

**The End**

* * *

_A/N: Cerulean and St. Cloud are the names of two streets I drive past. I just love the word, cerulean. Look for a new chapter of "A Very Good Team" next week._


End file.
